


The Westfall House

by thefreshestandthebest



Category: MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Feels, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Smut, Missing Scene, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreshestandthebest/pseuds/thefreshestandthebest
Summary: Series of one-shots involving the house that Chaol builds after KoA. Includes the reunion between Chaol, his mother, and brother. Just fluff & feels.
Relationships: Chaol Westfall & Yrene, Chaol Westfall/Yrene
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. The Westfall House

_ “Only a fortnight to go. I can’t wait to see you.” _

Chaol, too, counted the days.

Every letter from his mother patched up holes inside of him that he hadn’t even known existed. Starting with that very first, the one Yrene read to him in their room in Orynth. Since then, they’d kept up a correspondence even as Chaol and Yrene helped Dorian rebuild Rifthold. Once the castle was renovated — a magnificent structure of stone and brick — Chaol had busied himself with the task of building one for his family outside of the city. When he wasn’t attending meetings, reviewing laws, handling foreign correspondence, or doing any of the other responsibilities he’d been swamped with as Hand, he rode out to the site himself to oversee construction.

All the while, he’d written to his mother and brother. Sometimes writing to them was like stepping through a door to the past, which in turn often made him wonder what his adolescence in Rifthold would have been like if he’d had some written proof of his mother’s support. If his father hadn’t interfered… He stopped himself from going down that path. Once he started, he knew, it would be difficult to shake the cold rage he usually felt whenever he thought of his father.

And these days, rage was the last thing he wanted to feel. These days, Chaol had so many things to look forward to, most of all the date that his mother and brother would move into his and Yrene’s home.

_ Their home. _ He didn’t know his heart could be so full, especially now, gazing down the road from the porch of their new house with three-month-old Josefin in his arms.

At the moment she was staring at the birds perched on the fence that bordered their garden, Yrene’s pride: lavender, mint, and sage rocked in the gentle breeze, bringing their scent to Chaol’s nose. He inhaled happily and explained in a soft voice that the smaller birds were finches and the bigger ones… well, he’d seen her Uncle Dorian turn into one of those before. She cracked a grin when he imitated their cawing. It only made him want to do it more, to elicit her unrestrained glee.

“Careful, or those will be her first words.”

Yrene came up next to him, smoothing down her gown of pink silk and white cotton. Her hair was bound in her usual fashion, half up and half down, a smile lighting her face. She squinted down the road, bright and empty in the afternoon light. Josefin had her mother’s golden brown hair and eyes, but her smile was all Chaol.

“You’re right,” he said ruefully, “and then she’ll start telling Dorian to take her for a flight.”

Yrene leaned over to their baby. “And when you do, we shall terrorize your father together.”

She booped Josie’s nose, and the child broke out in a light cackle that sounded suspiciously like Yrene’s whenever she teased him.

“Alas, it is my burden to bear—” he kissed the baby’s cheek — “as father of The Menace.”

He’d taken to the affectionate nickname on the day Dorian had visited their new house. Over dinner the king was telling Yrene a particularly embarrassing story involving a teenage Chaol and a gaggle of young princesses when their daughter giggled quite suddenly, sending all three of them, even her mortified father, into a fit of laughter.

Now as they fixed their gaze on the road by the house, Chaol was jolted by the thought that he may not even remember what they looked like. It had been over 10 years since he laid eyes on his mother, and his brother — he was barely five years old. What if they came down the road and he overlooked them, and they him? He scanned the other end of the street, worried. Had they come by and missed the address, or —

“Chaol.” His wife’s voice brought him back to himself. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” he said mildly, looking to the road again.

“Brooding. Wondering if they ran into trouble on the road, do they need help, should you ride out to find them—”

“Should I?” He bounced Josie idly; she was toying with his hair.

He heard Yrene sigh beside him, her hand coming to rest on his back. “They’ll come. It’s still early.”

The last message from his mother promised they’d be here today, by the fifth afternoon bell, almost evening. It was still half past four, but all day Chaol had taken turns working in the stable, writing up reports, and gazing out their front windows until he gave up all pretense of productivity and simply came out on the porch to wait out his mother and brother’s arrival.

Yrene, the force of nature she was, had been baking cookies — as she always did when they had guests — tidying up the house, and sending out more proposals and appeals for instructors and staff for the new Torre Cesme in Rifthold. The king had passed legislation initializing construction of the tower, though it would remain an independent entity from the crown, similar to the Torre in Antica. Now Yrene, with the help of her fledgling team, was tasked with the undertaking of finding more healers across Adarlan. Despite Dorian’s efforts to strike down the old laws prohibiting magic, many of those with powers, including healers, were still hesitant to practice magic publicly, let alone share their knowledge of it.

Now Chaol looked to his wife, her face relaxed as she stared down that road, waiting for her first glimpse of her mother- and brother-in-law. Anticipating, but not anxious. Confident.

Everyday she amazed him. Even after outright rejection from some of the known healers she contacted, she kept her head held high, for the sake of those who said yes, they would help, and for those who would soon have the privilege of learning from her.

“Did it go well today?” he asked her softly.

“As well as can be expected,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “We’re thinking of gathering the healers to meet with the king. To show them he’s not his father. I suppose it’ll take a while for some of them to shake off the fear that’s been instilled in them for the past ten years.”

“It helps that Dorian is a magic-wielder himself.”

Yrene nodded. “Even then, we’re working on the terms of autonomy, as an assurance that history doesn’t repeat itself someday.” She smiled at him. “The first draft should be hitting the desk of a certain Hand to the King sometime this week.”

“I shall wait for it with bated breath.” He winced as Josie fussed, beating him about the shoulders with soft fists as she often did for her own amusement. “You’re fussy after your nap, aren’t you?”

Yrene laughed and held out her arms, and wordlessly Chaol passed their baby to her.

“As much as I don’t want her to grow up any faster, I can’t wait to see what mischief she’ll make when she’s older.”

Chaol breathed a long-suffering sigh, even as his eyes twinkled. “Never a dull moment in the Westfall house.”

Yrene laughed — a rich, musical sound — but it faltered as she looked past him.

Chaol turned, his breath catching. Two riders, slowly making their way up the road.

One was a slim woman, her back straight, astride a chestnut mare. The other, on a grey mare, was a tall and equally thin teenage boy, not quite grown into his frame. There was an awkward set to his gait, the only sign that riding was not his strong suit.

Chaol drank in the sight. When they were close enough for him to make out their features, his heart sank a little even as his pulse raced. His mother’s once shining chestnut brown hair was now heavily streaked with grey, and there was a grimness to their expressions for which Chaol supposed he had his father to thank.

Beckoned by an invisible hand, he took a step forward, slowly followed by the three porch steps, never taking his eyes off them. When his mother’s gaze finally landed on him, she let out a sob, a beaming smile spreading across her face.

She and Terrin nudged their horses forward. Chaol strode down the garden path, Yrene and Josie close behind. They halted outside the front gates, and as Chaol’s mother dismounted, it was all he could do not to sob himself.

“Mother.” He loosed a ragged breath, his mother closing the distance between them swiftly, tears in her eyes. His arms closed tightly around her, her light jasmine perfume engulfing him, and for a moment it was like the past ten years never happened.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, weeping, holding tighter, murmuring in disbelief.

“You’re here,” he breathed into her shirt collar.

“I’m here,” she whispered in his ear, a smile in her voice.

When she finally pulled back to look at him, she kept his face cradled in her hands, smoothing back his hair.

“Gods, I hardly recognized you. You were so skinny when you left, and now you’re… well—” she laughed— “you’re so handsome!”

Chaol shook his head, too happy to be embarrassed. “It’s been too long.” He brushed aside a lock of grey hair.

He looked past her, to Terrin, who had just dismounted. The lad wore a tentative smile, as if the brother he now approached were more legend than family.

“Terrin. Come here.” He caught up his brother in a fierce hug, almost lifting the boy clear off the ground. Terrin let out an audible “oof” and his hands clawed for purchase on his brother’s back. Setting him down, Chaol ruffled the boy’s hair — a darker brown than his own — and marveled that they were almost the same height.

“Look at you,” he said. “You’re all grown up.”

“So are you,” Terrin remarked, a sardonic glint in his eye. “The famous Westfall brother. Disgraced heir to Anielle, disappointment of his father’s life.”

“Shut up.” They chuckled.

Chaol turned to find his wife and mother eyeing one another. Hastily he stepped toward them.

“Yrene — my mother, Adaline. Ma, my wife, Yrene, and your granddaughter, Josefin.”

“Hello, darling,” Ada crooned to Josie, who now peered curiously at her grandmother. “And you, my dear,” she said to Yrene, “are even more beautiful than my son described.”

Yrene blushed, shooting her husband a look. “Oh, that’s very kind. I’m so happy to finally meet you, Lady Westfall.”

“Oh, none of that. ‘Ada’ will do. And let me introduce—” waving Terrin over— “your brother-in-law, Terrin Westfall.”

Terrin bowed over Yrene’s hand, and then they were all cooing over Josie, whom Yrene passed to Ada and Terrin to hold.

“You’re a little angel, aren’t you?” her grandmother murmured, delighted at the baby’s toothless grin. “I always did want a little girl. Instead I got these ruffians,” she added, eyeing her two sons.

Chaol laughed, as did Yrene and Terrin. “Looks are deceiving, Ma. This one’s a little imp. Yes, you.” He tickled Josie’s cheeks, eliciting another giggle from her.

“Go on inside,” he continued, “I’ll take care of the horses.”

When Chaol returned to the house, saddlebags slung over his shoulders, his wife, mother, and brother were seated on the living room couches, sipping tea over Yrene’s home baked cookies. Josefin was in the playpen, nudging toys around the floor. Suddenly — seeing them all here together — his throat tightened.

His mother beamed at him.

“Chaol, the house is beautiful. And you never mentioned the size of this place, it’s like a palace.”

He smiled. “A very humble palace, I’m afraid. Some of the rooms are still bare; we’ve been having some issues getting the furniture shipped here. But your rooms are finished.” He glanced at his wife. “Shall we start the grand tour?”

And so he and Yrene showed them around the ground floor: the cozy study set off by the living room, the spacious kitchen and dining room. Then upstairs, the five bedrooms, one of them Josie’s nursery, but each large enough for a bed, desk, closet, and bathing area.

His mother and Terrin had gasped in wonder with each new room, to Chaol’s unbridled joy. But he was completely unprepared for his mother’s reaction when they got to his and Yrene’s bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, gazing about the room.

The master bedroom was bathed in golden hour light, from the massive bed in the center to the sitting area, desk, and cabinets off to the side. Against the far wall was the gold couch — the tears in it lovingly patched up — with two matching chairs facing it.

Wordlessly Ada embraced Chaol, weeping softly.

“Ma?” Chaol rubbed circles on her back. He glanced at Yrene and Terrin; they both gave him sympathetic smiles.

She pulled away slightly. “I’m so sorry, my love. There is so much I never gave you, so much time we never got to have together. I should have worked harder to contact you, to get away from the Keep sooner, to take Terrin and go to you in Rifthold. I know, I know—” Chaol started to protest— “it would have been dangerous, we might have died. But at least you wouldn’t have been alone.

“This house,” she continued, “is what a house built on love feels like. It wasn’t what you and Terrin got growing up in Anielle. But now—” looking around her— “to live here, in this wonderful place you built with your own hands, with your lovely little family, though Gods know the years have made us strangers to you…” She shook her head, smiling up at him. “I’m so very proud of you, Chaol. You’ve become the man that your father never was.”

Chaol blushed, almost moved to tears himself. “Ma, we’ve been over this,” he said gently. “Father never made it easy for any of us. Neither of us knew the game he was playing. Trust me, I—I often thought of what I could have done differently. I think a part of me always will. But what’s done is done. We did what we could in the moment. Whether or not we made the right choices… everything led us to this moment.” He returned her smile. “And this moment feels pretty great.”

Ada let out a sob, taking her son in her arms again. “I’m never going to let you go again,” she murmured.

His arms tightened around her, breathing in her scent of jasmine and home. “I’m counting on it.”


	2. Mother and son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes, you're just dying to read a conversation between two characters that never meet in the books. what would they talk about? how would they recall the same events we read about in a different character's POV? how much would I gush over it? hence, this chapter. (also, dialogue is good practice.)
> 
> enjoy xx

“That’s quite the view of the Avery.”

Ada and Chaol stopped at the edge of their property, overlooking the plains and sparsely populated residences along the river. It was a silver thread in the hilly landscape, hushed now by crickets and the purple glow of evening. Out of the corner of his eye, Chaol could see Farasha cropping grass, the calmest he’d seen her all day. There had been traffic on the way out of Rifthold, and she had gotten more than a little restless, as had her rider.

As much as he found purpose working in the palace everyday as Dorian’s Hand, he looked forward to coming home every night. Kissing his wife and daughter in greeting, sitting around the dining table with his family, everyone loved and having enough to eat. The simplicity of it took his breath away.

And often after dinner, the family would take a stroll around the pasture, or on the road. Sometimes it was all the grown-ups, sometimes just him and his mother. Depending on how much Yrene expended her magic that day, he wheeled beside Ada, or walked with the cane. 

Now he glanced up at his mother, his hands resting on the armrests of the chair. “It’s one of the reasons we picked this spot. I was surprised to find parts of the city that were actually quiet. And peaceful.” He sighed. “We can be very insular up at the palace.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Trouble today?”

He nodded. “The usual — lords arguing over property rights, some trade and negotiation issues… Dorian always was better at these things than I was. Sometimes I feel like a nuisance.” He chuckled.

“You must know something about negotiation if you convinced the khagan in the Southern Continent to send his armies.”

Chaol grimaced. “Compared to some of the Adarlanian lords, the khagan looks like a pushover. Which he very much wasn’t.”

Down the road below, a wagon rumbled softly toward home, the driver bobbing lightly in his seat.

“Are you happy, son?”

Puzzled, he looked at her, gazing back at him with a wistful smile.

“More than I ever thought possible.”

“Then so am I.” Her voice was sure, but sadness still haunted her face.

He studied her for a moment longer, even as she turned back to survey the landscape. Her pale profile was stark against the darkening night sky. How many times had his mother looked east over the Keep, wondering, waiting for his return, or for a letter she would never receive?

“Ma.” She looked back at him, and he took a deep breath. “Could you tell me what it was like?”

This time her gaze shuttered, as it usually did when she talked about “before.” It meant a cold, dank castle devoid of personal taste, she and her remaining son surrounded by the unfriendly faces of her husband’s men. It meant Yulemas coming and going ten times without a word from her eldest son, wondering time and again if he blamed her. It meant day after day of being denied by an iron fist, except for the letters she wrote. Then finding out that she had been denied even that all along.

It meant long winter nights gazing out an east-facing window.

“It wasn’t nearly so lovely as it is here, certainly,” she began. “Even in the springtime. It would still be frosty for most of the season. Well, you remember.

“Save for your brother—” she shook her head— “I was lonely. I missed you a great deal. For a long time I couldn’t stop thinking about the moments we were all together, all happy — even your father. Yes,” she said, seeing the look on his face, “such a time existed. It came almost in bursts, but always brief, as if he couldn’t stand to be happy.

“But I can tell you, these bursts of warmth… they coincided with you and Terrin being born. They were like rare windows of time where I saw the man I fell in love with. It was like seeing him smile, but the moment he noticed you noticing, it would be gone. I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know when I lost him.”

Above them, the moon rose high and full, a pale light illuminating the cool grass. For a moment Chaol saw a glimpse of the woman his mother used to be, young and full of life, her face softened by the memories of the man she used to know. But then it was gone, replaced by the shadows under her cheekbones and grim line of her mouth.

“I don’t know when he lost you boys, either. I remember how he used to spend time with you, especially, teaching you to ride, to hunt, to fight.” She chuckled, faraway. “You wanted to play, but he would only humor you for so long. Soon enough, he would send you back to your lessons.

“But with Terrin…” Ada shook her head. “His patience wore very thin with Terrin. I think perhaps it was a combination of losing you, the son he was grooming as heir, and Terrin being less than what he expected. Where he wanted a general, he got a scholar.” Her mouth curved into a frown. “Yes, Terrin is a scholar, but that just makes him open-minded, and quick to pick up on things that other people miss. But your father never understood that about him. He only saw how unfit Terrin was to rule.”

“He was always saying,” remarked Chaol, “that Terrin was a scholar. As if being a ‘scholar’ somehow disqualified him from ruling Anielle.”

His mother scoffed. “In his eyes, it did.” She tipped her head back to look at the stars. Chaol followed her gaze, leaning back in his seat. Absently he traced the outlines of constellations, mulling over his mother’s story. In many ways, it was the story of his father, how everything and everyone he touched was never the same again. Chaol thought back to his last meeting with his father, during the war. He racked his brain, wondering how his father, in turn, could never be softened by those around him. His own family.

Since meeting Yrene, he’d felt his own hard edges melt away. Falling in love with her… it made him softer, but stronger. The things that once got on his nerves now seemed like petty folly. The walls around his heart came down, but — paradoxically — it made him  _ less _ fragile. 

And since having Josefin… she was his world. He couldn’t imagine  _ not _ being changed by her.

“Do you regret it?” he asked his mother now.

“Regret what?”

“All of it. Marrying father. Escaping him.”

She sighed, and was silent for a long while. He almost told her she didn’t have to answer when she spoke again.

“No. You and Terrin are the gifts of my life. I’m proud to call you two my sons. As sad as it might sound, we wouldn’t be where we are today if it weren’t for all the suffering we endured.” 

Then she gave him a sad smile. “I do regret not being there for you. I would have wanted to see you grow up.” Her voice broke at the end.

Chaol took one of her hands in both of his. She continued, shakily, “With Terrin at least I watched him grow. Helped raise him. Made him feel as much love as I could possibly give. But it breaks my heart that I wasn’t able to give that to you.

“The only thing,” she said, sniffing, “that gave me comfort was knowing that you went back for someone. Dorian. That you had a friend in him. And by all accounts, a brother.” She smiled at that.

Last week, Adaline Westfall had gone to the palace with her son to meet the king. Dorian had welcomed her with open arms, surprising them both, though Chaol supposed he shouldn’t have been. He’d been there when Dorian’s own mother returned to the palace. Their reunion was tearful and sweet, but it didn’t take long for the Queen Mother to resume her role in searching for a marriage match for her son, albeit more sensitive to his wishes. Dorian was probably just happy to meet a noble mother who wouldn’t try to set him up with anyone.

Indeed, that day Ada merely watched her son and the king interact, observing their banter and wordless conversations with a full heart. Her son had not been alone all these years.

His mother, still smiling, said, “We heard that you were… involved with the woman who was King’s Champion. Who eventually turned out to be a certain queen of Terrasen.” There was a twinkle in her eye.

“Ah,” said Chaol, “I was wondering when that would come up.”

“As Captain of the Guard, no less.”

“Yes, well—”

“When I heard you were married, I thought it was to her.”

He chuckled. “Once upon a time, I thought so too.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Aelin?”

“Yes,” his mother drawled, “now it’s your turn to tell me things.”

Chaol looked to the Avery again, gathering his thoughts. Every time he told this story, it felt further and further away, as if it had happened to someone else. Indeed, he was hardly the same man he was then: prideful, naive, afraid. When he looked back on some of the things he did — or didn’t do — and some of the things he said… he almost couldn’t recognize himself.

Yet he had done those things, said those words. And events had unfolded the way they did, all the way up to today, to this moment. So that he could hold his mother’s hand and look up at the night sky above the house he built for his family, and not lie terrified in the night that the Valg were coming for them.

He was almost glad he did and said those things.

Chaol cleared his throat. “She was Celaena when I first met her. Celaena Sardothien, also known as Adarlan’s Assassin.”

And so he told her the story, from the salt mines in Endovier to the dungeons of Rifthold palace to the sewers under the city. He talked about how knowing her had changed him, forced him to question what he really believed, turned his world upside down. How he’d loved her once, fiercely, and how badly it fizzled out. How broken, angry, and confused it left him.

“It took me a long time to realize it, but I was only in love with the idea of her. And I think that made me even more upset. Knowing that I’d been fooled.” He looked at his hands. “It was hard to face myself afterwards because I’d buried my head in the sand for so long. Enabling the king. Upholding his labor camps, and all of the other horrible decrees he enacted. I didn’t connect the dots between everything Celaena stood for, and everything that the king didn’t, until it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t too late,” he heard his mother say softly.

The image of that body in that bed flashed in his mind. “It was, for some.”

He fell silent, hearing the crickets chirping, the autumn wind rustling the tree branches. What did it say about him, that he rarely thought about that day anymore? Maybe it happened when he stopped seeing that scar in the mirror everyday. Aelin forgave him, but how often did she still think of Nehemia?

“And after that?”

“After?”

“What happened after Aelin Galathynius killed the king?”

Sometimes it still jolted him to hear that. To know that it was actually Dorian.

“After that, we needed allies in the war. That’s when I went to Antica.”

“Now this,” said Ada, a smile gracing her lips, “I want to hear about.”

Chaol couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own face. He’d told her bits and pieces about his injury, and how he met Yrene, but the full story was his favorite to tell. This story he felt closer to. This story — made him the man he was today.

“We set off for Antica around this time last year, late summer, early fall. Me and Nesryn Faliq — have you heard about Nesryn? Dorian made her the new Captain of the Guard before we left, same time he made me Hand. She was one of the city guards before, and one of my oldest… friends.”

“Friends?”

“Ah — yes. We, too, were ‘involved,’ as you say, at one point. Before I met Aelin.”

“I see.” That twinkle was back in her eye.

“Nothing ever really came of it, even during our travels. At one point, I thought there might be something… but eventually she and I realized it would never be. After all, we both met other people.” He grinned. “Nesryn is now married to the khagan’s Heir. She’ll be Empress of the Southern Continent one day.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “That is impressive,” she remarked, and after a pause: “Are you telling me that you’ve been with two women who are either now or will be rulers of entire kingdoms?”

“Oh.” Chaol blinked. “Well, when you put it that way—”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my daughter-in-law—” a glance at the house— “is anything short of amazing, but did you know you were letting royal material get away?”

He chuckled. “What are you trying to say, Ma?”

“I don’t know,” she replied mildly. “Maybe you used to have a type.”

“Ma!”

“Again,” she added, putting up her hands, “I think Yrene is perfect. But a mother can’t help but wonder, can she?”

“Well, I haven’t even told you that story yet,” he said, looking to the house. The windows downstairs were lit behind the curtains, but he could see his wife bustling about, preparing salves, writing letters, bathing Josie. He couldn’t imagine the house without her, without the recipe books she left on the kitchen counter, the fluffy blanket she knitted for the living room, the cocoa butter musk of her pillow.

“When we first met, we were as good as enemies.” He chuckled at the memory. “As a refugee from Fenharrow during Adarlan’s occupation, she had quite a few gripes with me, the Adarlanian lord she was charged to help. I wasn’t the greatest patient, either. I was coping with life in the chair — in those days I was confined to it all the time, I had no feeling in my legs at all. It made me resentful, and stubborn. Even though I’d traveled to Antica to get help, it still pained me to ask for it.

“But even from the very beginning, Yrene never looked at me with so much as an ounce of pity. I hated how everyone tiptoed around me just because I was in the chair. But not her. Even when I was reticent about my injury, she insisted I tell her about it. So I did.”

He gazed at the Avery. It was a shimmering thread in the distance, like a silver necklace against black velvet hills. It was his favorite sight when he looked out on the land: a shining stream in a sea of darkness. He took a deep breath.

“Every time she went in to heal my spine, I would relive my worst memories. Yrene would see them too, sometimes. They were so vivid, it was like standing by, outside my body, watching them unfold. Again and again. One of them was the day father threw me out of the Keep.” He glanced up at his mother. “I hit my head, on the stair—”

“I know.” Her voice was quiet. Broken. She reached for his hand. “The blood on your face haunted me for years.”

“I was okay,” he replied, equally quiet, squeezing her fingers. Then he smiled crookedly. “Though maybe some of my stupid decisions can be blamed on that knock on the head.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose I’m glad one of us can laugh about it now.”

“If there’s one thing I learned in Antica, it’s not to take myself too seriously.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, these visions… they were the mental and emotional blocks I had to overcome in order to heal physically. Each session would go on for five, six hours a day. And Yrene was… well. Amazing. She would have kept going past the point of exhaustion, if I hadn’t told her to take breaks.

“It took months. In that time, I got to know her. How she became the heir to the Healer on High. Her journey from Fenharrow when she was just a girl — you remember from a couple nights ago.” Chaol, Yrene, Ada, and Terrin had been sitting around the fireplace after Josie went to bed when Yrene began telling her mother- and brother-in-law the story of her childhood in Fenharrow, and how it was cut short.

“Even after all of that,” he continued, “she puts others before herself. Cares for them like her own. And here I was, feeling sorry for myself. But soon — I don't know when it was exactly — but I was waking up in the morning and actually looking forward to the day. I looked forward to the little things, like feeling the sun on my face, because I finally felt like I deserved it. To turn towards the light. Towards her.”

When he looked back at his mother, she was smiling in the way she had that sometimes embarrassed him. Over the past few weeks, he noticed how quick she was to smile or laugh, erasing all traces of the grimness she wore on the day they reunited. Often it was just this beaming look of pride. When directed at him, it was all he could do not to squirm in his seat like a thirteen-year-old whose mother just discovered his crush.

“I see it, too,” she finally said. “How much she loves you. You don’t see the way she looks at you when you’re not watching. On days when you come home late, I always see her glancing out the windows — even when she’s in the middle of something — waiting for you. And when you’re playing with Josie, oh—” she cut him a sly glance — “ _ that _ look is something else entirely.”

“Ma.” He squirmed, just a little.

“Come now—” she touched his shoulder — “let’s go back inside. We shouldn’t worry her.”

Wheeling back into the house, Chaol was surprised to see the candles burning low. Josie — and Terrin, for that matter — had already gone to bed. Had they really been talking so long? From the living room couch, Yrene looked up from the book she was reading.

“You’re back.” She crossed the room, smiling. “I was starting to worry.”

Mother and son shared a look.

Yrene narrowed her eyes. “Were you— were you talking about me?”

“No,” Chaol said — too quickly — in what he hoped was a mild voice. He didn’t meet her gaze, though.

“Just telling some stories,” his mother added, winking at her daughter-in-law. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be turning in for the night. I have much to think about.”

“What was that about?” Yrene asked as soon as Ada was up the stairs.

Chaol’s hand closed around the cane leaning against the couch. “Nothing. Shouldn’t you be resting? You had a long day of magic.” He started to stand up.

She went to support his side. “I should be, but now I can’t until my husband answers me honestly.” There was a teasing glint in her eye as her hand lingered on his chest.

He brushed aside a lock of her hair, looking into her face. He went still, and just looked. His wife. Mother of his child. Beautiful, fearless woman. Love of his life.

“What?” she whispered, her face inches from his.

“I love you.” He leaned down to kiss her.

He took his time, savoring the softness of her lips, their taste of the tea she drank, the silky strands of her hair between his fingers. She melted into him, winding her arms around his neck, her body flush against his. His heart raced with hers.

Finally she pulled away, cradling his face in her hands. Her eyes studied him in wonder. “You’re wicked, changing the subject like that.”

“It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“This time, yes. But next time—”

“Next time I’ll have to be more creative.” Grinning, he let his hand slide down her back. Lower.

She leaned into his touch. “You are a cad,” she breathed.

“Mm. But I’m  _ your _ cad.” He emphasized the word with a squeeze.

She giggled, swatting away his hand. “Come, husband. Let’s go to bed.”


	3. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another slice-of-life chapter about the Westfalls.
> 
> enjoy x

This December morning, the day dawned chilly and bright over Westfall house. The sun emerged triumphantly behind thick white clouds, illuminating grassy fields wet with dew. Birds gathered in the trees, singing their daily aubades. Soon winter would come and cover the hills in snow and biting cold. But not yet.

Downstairs, Chaol and Josefin were first to the table for breakfast, the latter bouncing on her father’s knee. Josie woke early, but Chaol insisted Yrene sleep in; she needed the rest from a rigorous day of healing. For once, she actually listened to him.

Soon Terrin came bounding down the stairs, greeting his brother and niece, going straight for the kahve pot. (Yrene had gotten her husband and the rest of the family hooked.) He poured himself a generous mug and sat at the table with some bread and fruit.

“Busy day today?” Chaol asked, eyeing his brother.

Terrin sighed. “So much to do. The exams next week are stacked back-to-back so closely it’s like they want us to fail. Three hours each. It’s madness. Gods help any of us who fail and have to repeat the whole term.”

Terrin had taken and passed the entrance exams to the Royal Academy in his sixteenth year, a year younger than most students did. He was studying for his certification as a political advisor, a five-year course with classes in politics, philosophy, history, languages — Terrin’s concentration was Eyllwe — and the odd weapons course, with exams every quarter. This term — the first of his first year — he had joined later than his peers, all of whom were at least a year older than him, resulting in a particularly challenging period of adjustment.

Living with Terrin for the past two months was an eye-opener. When Chaol had last seen his brother at the age of five, he hadn’t yet developed the cynicism and dry sense of humor that exuded from him today. He spoke fast, crackling with a frenetic intelligence that Chaol only just barely kept up with sometimes. Where Chaol was calm and deliberate, Terrin was sharp-tongued and fluid.

“Don’t even get me started on the combat class…” Terrin continued, ranting his grievances between sips of kahve and bites of bread. Meanwhile, their mother came downstairs — greeting Chaol and Josie with a look — listening to her younger son. She took a seat, listening to Terrin’s thoughts about “where the instructors should rather shove their spears.”

“Terrin!” Ada exclaimed. “Not in front of the baby!”

Oblivious, Josie chewed her breakfast. Chaol put his hands over her ears, stifling a laugh.

“She’ll forgive me, won’t you, Josie?” Terrin flashed her an apologetic smile. Josie smiled back.

“I swear…” Chaol muttered.

“Anyway, to answer your question,” his brother was saying, “yes, I am busy today. Extremely. I don’t know how I’m going to fit in sparring practice between studying arcane texts, but I suppose I’ll live.”

“Can I help?” When he shot him a look, Chaol shrugged. “I know a bit about sparring.”

“I’m sure that’s an understatement,” their mother remarked, sipping her tea. “It would be good practice, Terrin.”

Terrin looked between them, seeming to consider. Then he rose, finishing off his kahve. “Alright. Let’s see what you got, former Captain of the Guard.”

Chaol raised his brows, absently bouncing a babbling Josie in his lap. He watched his brother go back upstairs, presumably to gather his training materials, and pass Yrene on the way down.

“I’ve never seen him so determined, so early in the morning,” she said, striding over to the table.

“He’s got a sparring lesson with his brother today,” said Ada, eyes twinkling.

“Is that so?” It was Yrene’s turn to raise brows at her husband. She took Josie as Chaol stood.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll try not to kick his ass too hard.”

“He may surprise you,” said his mother, cryptically. “What he lacks in skill he makes up for in speed.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Chaol and Terrin squared off on the pasture in the back of their house. They wielded blunt-edged practice swords that glinted in the sun.

Ada and Yrene sat on the broad, shady back porch to watch. Between them, Josefin played on the padded mat. She had just started to grasp objects in her tiny fingers, and she busied herself now with rearranging a wooden block set that her Uncle Dorian gave her on his last visit.

Yrene, nursing a mug of kahve to warm her hands, turned to her mother-in-law. “I didn’t get to ask you before — how is work at the palace?”

Lady Ada Westfall had a position there, helping to oversee the ladies-in-waiting and look after the general needs of the palace women. 

She smiled. “I like it. Women working together to achieve a common goal. A few of them have issues, sure, but generally we all try to foster a positive environment. And it’s nice to be a part of something again.”

They watched as Chaol and Terrin’s swords clanged, the former driving the latter back towards the stables. Terrin faltered, and his brother said something. After a confused moment, Chaol walked over to adjust his stance.

Yrene nodded. “I’m happy to hear it. And it’s keeping you sufficiently busy?”

“Oh yes. A lot of nobles have been trickling back to the capital since the end of the war, and it’s only ramped up with Yulemas coming. Many of them, I’ve noticed,” she added slyly, “are women hand-picked specifically by the Queen Mother.”

“Ah.” They were all familiar with Georgina’s List, populated by eligible bachelorettes she thought fit to be queen. Personally, Yrene would like to be in the room just to see the Queen Mother’s reaction if Dorian ever proposed to Manon Blackbeak, as he so clearly wanted to. And if Manon accepted… Yrene grinned inwardly.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Yrene went on, “but I’m curious. What was Yulemas like in Anielle?”

“You can ask me anything at all,” replied Ada, with a smile. Then she sat back. “Yulemas there was nothing compared to here in the capital, but there would be celebrations at the Keep — one for the townspeople, another for the nobles. They were drastically different events. I should know, I was in charge of organizing them. It was the one thing that I could make decisions about without—”

Ada caught her daughter-in-law’s eye. “Well, no need to go down that path just now, but as I was saying, these Yulemas balls. The one for the villagers was lively, boisterous. Lots of dancing, people eating and drinking to their heart’s desire. It was relaxed. People let down their inhibitions and had a great time. The nobles’ ball, on the other hand…”

She shrugged. “It was like a state dinner. Our chefs would outdo themselves, of course, but the atmosphere would be very formal. Hardly any dancing, and when there was, they were the stately waltzes and grand, somber numbers. I tried to make them more casual, but somehow they would always end up the same way. Restrained, and self-conscious.

“Inevitably, I would always be reminded of Chaol’s absence.” Then she beamed at Yrene. “I can’t wait to celebrate it together this year.” 

Their first Yulemas in eleven years. Eventually, too, there would be first birthdays, anniversaries, and milestones. All celebrated together rather than apart. A new beginning.

They fell into companionable silence, reveling in the prospect. Meanwhile, Chaol was showing Terrin how to disarm an opponent. Yrene, ever the healer, assessed her husband’s movements, looking for signs of strain as he pivoted this way and that, quads flexing under fitted trousers, sweat making his shirt cling to his back and torso. 

“Now may I ask you something, daughter?”

Ada’s voice brought her back. “Of course.”

“I understand that he wouldn’t be able to move like that if it weren’t for you.” Yrene reddened slightly — maybe her “professional” staring wasn’t so subtle. “I have his version of the story,” Ada went on, eyes dancing, “but I want to hear yours. How did you heal him?”

Yrene smiled. “It was no easy process. It took weeks and weeks. He was in tremendous pain for most of it.” Her smile faded as she recalled those sessions: the bottomless well of darkness waiting for her each time she went in, his body tensed in agony for hours on end. The act of handing him the bit like an overture to some twisted dance they were about to perform.

“Pain?” asked Ada. “You mean the visions?”

“Yes, the visions, but there was also the physical pain. Reconnecting severed nerves is tricky, and painful, even more so than flesh wounds. Normally I would sedate a patient with an injury that severe, but its connection with Valg magic made it unpredictable. I didn’t know what would happen if I put him under during the healing… so he had to be conscious.”

She smiled grimly. “It was hard enough for me, I shudder to think what it was like for him. And did he tell you? Each healing session would go on for hours. We’d both lose track of time because the magic demanded all our attention. Time didn’t pass the same way. And the healing was like fighting a sentient creature that wasn’t just wielding dark magic but was darkness itself. A darkness that was feeding on him.”

Her mother-in-law’s eyes widened, her only indication of shock. In the background, the brothers sparred, Chaol’s laughter ringing in the air as he again dislodged Terrin’s sword, triggering a string of curses.

“I didn’t realize it was like that,” Ada whispered.

“He is a soldier,” Yrene said gently. “And a damn stubborn one at that. For all I know, he could have outlasted the Valg without me, with pure stubbornness alone.”

That got a chuckle out of the other woman. “That I believe.”

Yrene paused, considering. “What was he like? As a child?”

The other woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh, he was a sweet baby, like this one.” She nodded affectionately at Josie. “Well-behaved. Eager to please. Even at a young age, he was naturally gifted in the fighting arts.” She sighed. “The stubbornness came later. Especially after his trip to Rifthold when he was thirteen. He and his father would argue every night. He was beginning to want things for himself, not just to please his father and do his bidding.

“Until one day—” she glanced at Yrene — “well, you know what happened.”

“To think,” Yrene remarked, “he was escaping his father’s oppression, only to be ensnared in the king’s.”

Ada nodded.

The brothers had switched to knifework, practice blades in hand. They circled one another, getting a feel for the new weapon. Chaol said something, to which Terrin responded with a rude gesture.

“So how does a refugee from Fenharrow,” Ada said pointedly, “be persuaded to marry an Adarlanian lord?”

Startled, Yrene laughed. “You should have seen us at the beginning. There was so much obstinacy on both our parts, and animosity on mine. I was quite unprofessional during our first meeting — I couldn’t look past his title. Assumed I knew everything about him just because of where he came from. But then he started to surprise me.

“Wanting to spend more time with me outside our sessions. Just riding through the city together. He was restless, being cooped up indoors so much. Several times he even accompanied me when I made my rounds, house to house, visiting the sick and injured who couldn’t travel to the Torre. In the palace in Antica, there were spies everywhere, so these little excursions out into the city were some of the only times we could talk openly. About the war. About anything.”

In the pasture, Chaol and Terrin slashed and parried quickly. Terrin, to their surprise, was fast as a whip with the dagger. His brother kept up, but he was clearly caught off guard.

“Here.” Yrene reached for the silver chain around her neck. The locket she always wore swung free as it was placed in Ada’s palm. “He gave me this for my birthday last year.”

Anyone could tell that the locket was of fine make, down to the details in Yrene’s initials,  _ YT _ , written in script on the back, as well as the beautiful landscape painted on the front. 

“He said it was for whatever I always carried in my pocket.” She chuckled at the memory. “I had it with me all the time, to the point where I’d reach for it unconsciously. He didn’t even know what it was, but he was paying attention. The size was perfect.”

“May I?” Her finger was on the latch. Yrene nodded.

Ada drew out the worn scrap of paper and unfolded it carefully. Aelin’s note.

Yrene filled her mother-in-law in on the miraculous turn of fate that brought the healer in contact with the runaway queen at just the right time. How it gave Yrene the means to make it to the Torre in Antica. And then, later, how the fates crossed Aelin’s path with that of Yrene’s future husband.

When she was done, Ada simply looked at her in amazement.

Yrene smiled. “I know.”

* * *

“Don’t leave your target so wide open.”

Chaol gestured with his sword to Terrin’s upper body, angled forward. His brother’s grip was all right, but he had to improve his stance. An opponent would skewer him in an instant.

Terrin looked blankly at him, twisting half-heartedly in the wrong direction. Sighing, Chaol stalked over and adjusted his stance for him. When he returned to his place a few paces from his brother, Terrin raised his other arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Any of your recruits to the Guard this hopeless?”

Chaol chuckled softly. “You’d be surprised. Come on. Get your sword arm up.”

They went through another series of blocks, Chaol driving his brother back toward the stables. Maybe he would let Farasha take a bite out of Terrin. Call it motivation.

Chaol only felt a bit of stiffness in his back. It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, chill and windy yet sunny, the kind of weather that reminded him of Anielle in late spring, when the snow had all melted and left behind fresh wet grass, blanketing the mountains behind the Keep and cushioning his footfalls in the training yard.

Indeed he felt transported to a younger, simpler time. Yet fencing with his little brother… it wasn’t something he ever got to do before. Eleven years ago, Terrin had still been too young to be a sparring partner, and then Chaol had left. It made him want to make the most of it now.

Seeing an opening, Chaol pushed forward, sword coming to rest against his brother’s neck. Terrin panted, his back against the stable wall. Defeat shone in his eyes.

Chaol lowered his sword. “Don’t pay too much attention to your opponent’s weapon. Keep an eye on their bodies, their footwork, their shoulders. Even their eyes, though more a skilled swordsman could probably use that against you.

“And blocking,” he continued, coming up next to Terrin, “shouldn’t be big, sweeping gestures. They’re small, concentrated bursts, just enough to deflect the attack. Save that energy for your attacks.”

Terrin sighed, still catching his breath. “That’s what father always said.”

Chaol studied him for a moment. “Well, he’s right. Not about much else, but in this, at least, he knew what he was talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was never very good at anything he said.”

“Look at it this way.” He leaned against the stable wall, squinting in the sun. “I broke all my promises to him. Once, as a teenager, and again, when I was a grown man. I let you become the sole focus of his scrutiny, a position which I have held before and do not begrudge. So if anyone was bad at following what he wanted, it’s me.”

“Oh, I know.” Terrin gave him a sidelong glance. “In fact, I hated you for it for a while. ‘Why did he just leave us? Why did he choose some snot-nosed royal prince—’” earning a look from Chaol— “‘over us, his family?’ Gods, for such a long time I hated you.”

A memory flashed in Chaol’s mind: his little brother, tottering toward him hesitantly in the entryway to the Keep. The blood warm on Chaol’s cheek as he shook his head:  _ no _ .

“Do you still?” he asked now. “Hate me?”

“No, no,” said Terrin, voice surprisingly gentle. “Why would I choose to move in with you otherwise? No, I learned the hard way, that what father wanted was just another soldier in his army — nonexistent army, I should say. Just another weapon on his belt. It would be impossible for any functioning, autonomous human being to fulfill his wishes. Autonomous being the key.”

Chaol huffed in agreement.

“So I don’t blame you,” Terrin said. “And thank the Gods we all escaped from there alive, and at least partly sane. Especially mother.”

Chaol gazed toward his mother and wife, talking on the back porch, Josie playing closeby. He let himself breathe in the brisk wind cooling his cheek, telling himself to relax. After so long being conditioned to look over his shoulder — courtesy of being a rebel to the Crown — and constantly wondering where he stood with people, Chaol sometimes felt lingering tension at random moments throughout the day. Usually he would be in a crowded place — riding into the city, maybe — when his breathing would quicken and he’d look around for enemies hiding behind merchant stalls, for cloaks concealing daggers that could later plunge into Farasha, or him, if he wasn’t vigilant. Or, other times, it would be the wind howling or wood creaking in the night that would freeze his blood in its veins. Yrene knew about his recurring nightmares, and assured him that what he was experiencing sounded like post-war stress — a condition she’d seen in her patients before — but still he wasn’t sure he was even partly sane, sometimes.

“Come on,” Chaol said now, striding again toward the middle of the pasture. “Let me show you how to disarm an opponent.”

So he led Terrin through a series of moves, all designed to encourage an opponent to drop their weapon. He demonstrated, and had his brother repeat the moves. Even after practicing, it was clear that Terrin was still having difficulties keeping his sword arm up and using it as an extension of his arm rather than merely an overweight piece of metal he clumsily waved around. Ultimately, Chaol saw that he had more than a swordplay problem on his hands.

“Why don’t we move on with knifework,” he offered. The sweat was pouring off both of them now, but Chaol wanted to spend more time outside.

Instead of refusing with a sarcastic remark, however, Terrin only replied, “Sure.”

They squared off, getting a feel for the weapon in their hands. “I hope you aren’t as shitty with a dagger as you are with a sword,” Chaol joked, earning him a rude gesture from Terrin. When Chaol signaled for them to start, Terrin burst forward.

Surprised, Chaol dodged and blocked, but not as efficiently as he would have liked. Pain was starting to shoot down his legs from his lower back, and to be quite honest, his brother was a sure hand and a fleet foot with a dagger.

In the end, they called a tie, sheathing their weapons. Chaol looked his brother up and down. “Where did you learn all that?”

Terrin gave him a crooked smile. “I like knives. They’re light and nimble. It was the first thing I got good at, training back home. With the sword and other things I’m not good at right away, I take forever to make progress. But daggers— ” His eyes shone. “Daggers I could do.”

Then he scoffed. “Father always said I was a ‘scholar,’ with such scorn. He never really knew me. Yes, I’m a scholar. But I can also fillet your ass in close quarters.”

Chaol looked between Terrin’s face and the dagger belted at his waist. “You ever have to use it?”

His brother’s eyes darkened. “Once or twice.”

Together they strolled back to the house, Terrin dashing off, saying something about “a very important appointment with his bathtub.” Chaol had the same idea, though he halted by the women on the back porch, whose expressions looked very conspiratorial indeed.

“What are you two gabbing on about?”

His wife and mother shared a look.

“On second thought,” he said, strolling over to his baby daughter, “I don’t want to know.” He bent to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

“How’s your back?” Yrene, eagle-eyed healer that she was, had noticed the stiffness in his movements, probably when he straightened.

“Sore.” He rubbed his back. “I’m going to take a cold bath.”

“I can give you a massage after.”

He kissed her cheek, then took her mug of kahve and downed the last sip, by now cold and bitter. He looked at his mother. “Did you know he could do that?”

Ada laughed. “You mean the knife-fighting. He got very good at it. I’m surprised it hasn’t quite transferred to his ability with a sword.”

Chaol shook his head, still in disbelief. Later, in his bath, he thought over Terrin’s words.  _ Once or twice _ . When Chaol killed Cain, he was twenty-two. Who had Terrin killed by sixteen?

He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as his neck rested against the cold lip of the tub. There was much he couldn’t get back. Time with his family. Terrin’s innocence, or his own, for that matter. Gods knew war made them all do the unthinkable.

A knock brought him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to find Yrene poking her head in at the door.

“Terrin has annexed the study,” she announced, closing the door behind her, “and Josie is watching Ada bake puff pastry. Sounds like it’s going to be a regular Saturday around here.”

He watched her through the open door separating the bathing chamber and their bedroom. She knelt by her chest of oils and salves, long hair spilling down her back almost to the floor.

His back cramped as he climbed out of the tub and dried himself off with a towel. He shivered in the cool air. “And you? What are your plans for today?”

“Oh, more paperwork,” she said from the other room. “We’re planning to meet up tomorrow to discuss details of the curriculum.” The Rifthold Torre was in the middle of construction, and Yrene had managed to gather a good number of healers from across the land who agreed to come and teach. Some had taught before, in secret, others never before. In addition to her administrative duties, Yrene planned to get the first instructor training in before Yulemas.

Chaol stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist. “They could meet here, if you want. So that you don’t have to go out into the city in the cold.”

From her seat at the foot of the bed, she swept appreciative eyes over his body. “Now, that’s hardly fair. To make everyone else brave the weather while I… stay warm.” Her gaze finally landed on his face.

Heat rushed into his veins as he sat next to her. Up close, he drank in her features: the freckles dusted across her nose, the natural shine of her cheekbones, those long lashes that fluttered when she blinked, her golden brown eyes as they held his own, and the scent of kahve that he wanted to kiss from her lips.

He reached to toy with a strand of her long, wavy hair. “And how, exactly, would you like to keep warm, Lady Westfall?”

“Nothing beats a nice hot cup of kahve,” she breathed, biting her lip.

“You already had kahve this morning.”

“Hmm. I just finished knitting another blanket the other night.” A smile tugged at her lips, close enough to his own that he could almost taste them.

“I was thinking of using the blanket afterwards.”

Her face lit up despite the smile she tried to contain. “I thought you wanted me to give you a massage.”

“And I must find a way to thank you for it after. My bath was  _ very _ cold,” he whispered. “How else do I get warm?”

“I thought this was about keeping  _ me _ warm.”

“I’m a selfish man, what can I say?”

She giggled, leaning in to kiss him. He responded immediately, deepening it with a flick of his tongue. His arms went around her, feeling too many layers between them. She was half onto his lap when his back groaned in protest.

Yrene pulled away to look into his face. “That can’t have been painless.” Her eyes danced. “Come on, you brute. Lay down so I can get rid of those knots in your back.”

He obeyed, not before stealing another kiss from her. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he propped his cheek onto his forearms, which he folded in front of him. She poured an oil into her palms, and soon the scent — he sniffed — of eucalyptus enveloped him.

Starting at his shoulders, she worked her way down to his lower back, her hands wondrously warm. He sighed as her thumbs dug into the flesh at the base of his spine, right where he needed it. Tension loosened with every knead, and he felt himself melt into the mattress, which muffled his moans of pleasure.

“Stop that,” said his wife, raking her fingernails down his back for emphasis. That only made him moan again, a shiver running down his spine at her touch. “I mean it,” she murmured, close to his ear.

He cracked open an eyelid. “Only if you stop doing such things to my body.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Then don’t expect me to stop.” His face was half-concealed against the sheets, but he gave her a lazy grin.

She continued her ministrations, eyeing him. Her hair fell forward to curtain her face, but not before he caught the glimpse of a smile there.

They fell into a comfortable silence. The only sounds in Chaol’s ears were his own steady breathing and the sliding press of her hands on his skin. His mind drifted.

“Terrin said something today,” he said finally. Yrene paused for a fraction of a second before resuming. “He said, ‘Father never really knew me.’”

“What did he mean by that?”

“That even living under the same roof doesn’t mean you know a person. Or maybe our father was just particularly neglectful. But Terrin is brilliant with a dagger. How could he not see that?”

“People choose to see what they want to see,” Yrene murmured. “Your father seems like exactly the sort to do that.”

“Terrin may be poor with a sword, but he’s still a fighter. With a dagger he’s a fighter. Not a scholar.”

“Or both.”

Chaol paused before speaking. “I think he killed before. With those very skills.”

“You think?”

“I asked if he ever had to use the dagger before. ‘Once or twice,’ he said.”

“Are you surprised?”

He let out a breath. “No. Yes. He’s my baby brother. Somehow I never imagined he would have to, gangly as he is. Someone would always protect him. If it wasn’t me, it would be one of Father’s men.”

“Once or twice,” Yrene mused. “That doesn’t necessarily mean kills, though, right?”

Chaol turned to look at her. “No. But it could also be a gross understatement.”

Yrene took her hands from his back. “Don’t look so worried. He doesn’t strike me as a bloodthirsty sort. He’s traveled a long way. Surely he must have had to defend, or hunt for himself and your mother at some point.”

It sounded so logical, put that way. Why was he always overthinking things?

As if she heard him, she squeezed his towel-clad ass a moment later, and all coherent thought left his brain. “Done.”

He rolled over and pulled her close. “Now, how should I thank you...”

She reached to undo his towel before straddling him, her golden brown tresses swinging forward to brush his abdomen and chest, sending all his blood south. Feeling that, she grinned mischievously. “I can think of a few ways.”


	4. Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a one-shot as fluffy as the puppies in it

“Ah, here’s the lad.”

Dorian and Chaol were in the middle of the kennels, dogs circling them eagerly. They varied in size, color, and personality — some wanted to be petted while others kept their distance. Others were in the farther corners in large cages, watching and barking at the men as they neared a litter of puppies in a blanket on a pile of hay.

The king wanted to give his friend a gift from his own kennels: a beautiful black labrador puppy from a recent litter. The Hand was skeptical at first, but when Dorian pulled the pup from the fluffy, wriggling pile, Chaol was instantly smitten.

“Gods, you are so handsome,” he murmured, taking the pup into his arms. The animal’s velvety black fur was soft between his fingers, his floppy ears softer still. Chaol’s heart melted when he met the puppy’s striking grey-blue eyes, big and trusting in his cute little face. Something in them made him think of a newborn Josie, her big golden eyes peering up at him out of her adorable little face. It was a face he couldn’t deny. Then the dog tilted his head up to lick Chaol’s chin, and it was a done deal.

Dorian was grinning. “He’s a fine boy, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Chaol breathed, snuggling the dog into the crook of his neck. The animal burrowed there, rubbing a wet nose into his collar.

“He’s yours,” replied the king. “It will be nice for Josie to grow up with a family pet.”

“There aren’t any strings attached?”

Dorian laughed. “Who do you take me for? I want these puppies to go to loving homes. You can train them to be guards, trackers, hunters, whatever you want. We have plenty already here at the kennels.”

Chaol still looked at his friend in amazement. “Thank you.”

Dorian smiled, gazing between Chaol and his new friend. The dog was sniffing the man’s clothes eagerly, oversized paws finding purchase on his jacket.

“Now it’s just a matter of Yrene’s approval,” Chaol remarked. “But how can she say no to this face?” He chuckled as the dog licked his nose.

At that, the smile on Dorian’s face turned to a mischievous grin. “On second thought,” he drawled, “I have another gift for you.”

* * *

Yrene was tending the garden in the front yard when her husband returned home that evening. The year’s harvest of herbs was plentiful — the basket beside her had to be emptied twice today already.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he dismounted, carrying something in his hands. Dusting off her own hands, she made a mental note of which herbs had to be plucked in the next few days. There was a lavender bush that was just about ready. A couple sprigs of peppermint…

Chaol strode up the walkway and stopped.

“You’re home early,” she called, back still turned.

“With a surprise.”

Puzzled, she finally turned around to face him — and froze.

The cutest ball of fur nestled on Chaol’s chest, almost camouflaged against his midnight blue jacket. Yrene stepped closer, looking between the puppy and her husband.

“Who’s this?” she whispered, reaching up a hand to stroke the animal’s fur. She gasped. It was softer than the down blanket they used for winter. Captivated, she watched as the dog sniffed her hand — and giggled when he licked it.

“A gift from Dorian,” replied Chaol. “And hopefully a new member of the family?”

Yrene’s gaze flicked to his, where she saw a boyish longing she had never seen before. She studied it for a moment, already knowing there was no way she could refuse. Not the puppy’s face, nor her husband’s.

“Oh, all right then,” she said, gratified at the wide grin that spread across his face. “You’ve already gone and fallen in love, though, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” he said, nuzzling the puppy, which he now cradled like a human baby. “The moment I saw him, I knew.”

“Him?” Yrene smiled. “What shall his name be?”

Chaol froze, this time peering at her with a look she did recognize. Oh, he was up to something. Because then he passed the dog to her.

“Hold that thought.”

He dashed off back to Farasha — who waited near the gate, unusually patient — and it was then that Yrene realized he hadn’t stabled the horse.

Her instincts were right. Because now he reached into a saddlebag and pulled out another bundle of fur — this time fawn.

“Chaol!” Her mouth hung open as she stared at the new puppy.

“I figured,” her husband explained as he walked toward her, “that he would like a friend.”

“A friend! We’re his friends!”

“I know, but…” He peered into the tan puppy’s face. “This one is his sister.”

The yellow lab puppy looked out at both of them with those same eyes — hers a chestnut brown and utterly adorable — and despite everything Yrene’s heart melted. The black puppy in her arms stretched out his muzzle to sniff his fair sister as Chaol stroked her behind the ears. It was evil — her husband was evil.

“Chaol,” she repeated, calmly this time, “have you thought this through? Or did you just take one look at them and say ‘I’ll take them all’?”

He shook his head. “No, no, of course I thought about it. These two were part of a litter of seven. There was just something special about these two. And I thought at least some of them should stay together, so…”

Yrene sighed. Clearly he was smitten. She was, too, but it was just a lot to consider. Not one, but  _ two _ adorable, fluffy, warm —

“Besides,” he was saying, “Wouldn’t it be nice if Josie grew up with pets? When I was growing up we only had hunting dogs so they didn’t always make good companions.”

“I can see you’ve made up your mind.”

He looked at her with his own puppy dog eyes. “Please, Yrene? At least maybe keep them for a couple weeks to see if they get along in the house?”

The pup in his arms seemed to gaze back at her, and she almost wanted to laugh at the picture they made together. A tall, brawny man and the tiny stuffed animal of a puppy dwarfed in his hands, both looking at her with the same soulful brown eyes. Though she had reasonable objections, she knew she’d feel like a monster if she refused them.

“Two weeks,” she said finally, trying not to smile. “To see if they get along with everyone.”

Chaol cradled the back of her head and tipped her face up to his for a sweet kiss. Once. Twice, for each puppy.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips.

Three weeks later, Shadow and Luna were still in the house.


	5. Twenty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaol's 25th birthday. takes place before the puppies come into their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this bashfully m-rated chapter. x

On the winter morning of his twenty-fifth birthday, Chaol woke enveloped in warmth. A peek at the curtains told him it was a little before dawn, so he settled in for at least another hour. Sleep was precious with a six-month-old in the house. He shifted in bed — or tried to — when he discovered his wife had him pinned.

Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, an arm flung across his chest. He shifted his legs — one of hers was slung on top of them. He tried to stretch in place to get more comfortable but all he managed was a foot cramp. Yrene stirred and rubbed her eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Did I wake you?”

“Mm. Was I clinging to you again?”

He chuckled, eyes closed. “I like when you cling.”

“Oh?”

“You’re warm.”

“You’re a cuddler.”

“I am. What are you going to do about it?”

She giggled — a sleepy giggle that Chaol admitted turned him on like crazy. He gave her a sleepy grin and pulled her to his side, but she had other plans.

“I can think of something,” she whispered in his ear, resettling on top of him, this time with both legs on either side of him.

His eyes snapped open, and his hands went automatically to her hips. His brain was still trying to catch up with his animal side — wide awake, judging by where all his blood was flowing now. Her eyes were half-lidded and groggy from sleep, but her movements were deliberate as she ground into him.

He moaned softly, pressing back into the pillows. He couldn’t form a single thought — all was pure sensation. Briefly he wondered if he was still dreaming — it wouldn’t have been the first time. All he knew was the heavenly weight of his wife’s body on top of his and the tantalizingly thin layers of clothing between them.

She must have read his mind — Dream Yrene had done that before, too — for she pulled up her nightdress so that her center rubbed against his erection. He fumbled for the hem of his trousers and together they made quick work of it. Then, slowly, so slowly, she lowered herself onto him.

Her rhythm was deliciously slow, as if she had all the time in the world. The unhurried drag of him inside her almost drove him mad, but it was a thrilling kind of mad. He loved when she took what she wanted from him, how she wanted it. Besides, if this was a dream, he was in no position to make demands.

She began to thrust faster, demanding more. Through his haze of bliss, he saw that the neckline of her nightshirt had slipped, baring a creamy brown shoulder and the tempting curves of her breasts. Her breath came in soft pants, her eyes closed in ecstasy, golden brown hair unbound and spilling down her back. So beautiful.

He slipped her nightdress off and pulled her down over him, letting his hands, his mouth rove, exploring her every curve and swell, each inch of skin more luscious than anything he could ever invent in a dream. He met her thrusts with increasing urgency, relishing the moans of pleasure that left her beautiful mouth. She found release seconds before he did, crying out as her thighs tightened around him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

She’d broken skin like that before. Usually it was when he was on top, her nails leaving raw tracks down his back.

“Oh, dear,” she had murmured the first time she’d done it, staring at his back as he got up the next morning. He hadn’t known he was bleeding — the marks had scabbed over. She ran her fingers over them and hissed in sympathy. “I can heal them,” she offered.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. At her look of shock, he kissed her with all the passion he’d felt last night. “I shall wear them like a badge of honor.”

He always liked when she left marks on him, whether it was with her fingers or her mouth; he never let her heal them. Now he wondered if — hoped — those beautiful nails of hers would leave marks on his shoulders today.

As their breathing steadied, he ran his hands down her back, wonderfully warm despite the cool air. She was still wrapped around him, and as the sun’s first rays peeked through the drapes, Chaol felt he could stay like that forever.

Finally, after untold minutes, Yrene slipped off him and snuggled into his side, a sated smile on her face. She pulled the covers back over them. “Happy Birthday,” she said softly, kissing his cheek.

“So it wasn’t a dream. Was that my present?”

“ _ That _ was not your present. That was I love you.”

“Aw. So no present?”

Again that giggle. “Don’t make me regret the gift I have planned for you.”

“Oh?” He craned to see her face. “What is it? Is it here? In this room?”

“Stop it. No, it’s not. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He tilted his head and studied her a moment longer. Her eyes were closed and she looked perfectly intent on going back to sleep. Chaol, however, was not.

“So that’s it? You’re just going back to sleep after making love to me and then teasing me about my birthday present?”

She sighed happily. “Yes.”

“Wow. I can’t go back to sleep now.”

“Then at least let me.”

He laughed softly, tightening his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Later that morning, the Westfalls bundled into carriages and rolled off into the countryside. Yrene refused to tell Chaol where they were going, only advising them all to dress warmly, though none of this seemed to be news to Terrin and Ada. Clearly, there was a surprise up her sleeve. Josie rode in the other carriage with her uncle and grandma, no doubt squealing with joy at the passing scenery. He’d wanted to take her in their carriage but Yrene, surprisingly, refused.

“We’ll all meet up when we get there,” was all she’d said.

His eyes narrowed. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“Maybe.”

“You should have at least let me say goodbye to the others.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just be patient. Josie can ride with us on the way back.”

The whole time she had this secret smile on her face, which was distant as she gazed out the carriage window. They sat across from each other, so he could study her every expression for signs — any sign — of what was to come. So far he had nothing. Maybe a picnic? A trip to the swimming hole? But he doubted either of those options would be pleasant at this time of year.

So he followed her gaze out the window, the light blanket of snow covering the rolling green hills of the Adarlanian countryside. In the distance were little cottages and farmhouses, smoke rising softly from their chimneys. Beyond were mountains shrouded in fog.

Despite the cold, it was a beautiful, sunny winter day that reminded him a lot of Anielle. There the snow always fell long before his December birthday and stuck around until April. He’d hated it when he was younger, but now he felt nostalgic. 

A part of him wanted to take Josie there one day, just so she could dip her toes in the wonderfully warm waters of the hot springs around the lake. Make snowmen as big and tall as any Keep. Teach her to ice skate on the frozen pond, holding her tiny hands steady as she balanced on the ice…

But no. It wouldn’t be right to bring her so close to the place where her grandfather locked himself away behind a literal wall and let no one else in.

He looked back at his wife. She was quiet, lost in thought. He was content just to look, still trying to decipher what could possibly be in store for him.

Finally she caught him staring, and flashed a smile. “How are your legs?”

“I can barely walk thanks to our little morning ride.” Untrue, since they had all seen him walk out of the house and into the carriage just fine, but he needed clues. He was not above a little flirtation to get what he wanted.

To his extreme satisfaction, she blushed. “You—” She started again. “You know what I mean.”

“Why? Will I be needing them for this glorious jaunt you’ve planned for us?”

She opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. Damn it, so close. “You may,” she said primly. Chaol raised his brows, pleased to have finally drawn something from her, but then she finished, “Or you may not.”

He frowned, looking back out the window. “I shall find my answers in the mountains, then.”

Again she smiled that secret smile but said nothing.

Chaol watched a couple more miles go by before there was a knock on the carriage roof by the coachman. Abruptly Yrene yanked the drapes closed, startling him.

“What—”

“We’re close,” she said, her eyes lighting. “Don’t want to spoil your surprise.”

Indeed, soon their carriages were grounding to a halt. He was still staring at Yrene as Terrin, Ada, and Josie alighted from the other carriage, their conversation muffled. His wife seemed to be waiting for something. Then Ada opened the carriage door.

“Ready for a treat?” she said to her son brightly.

“I—”

“Wait!” Yrene exclaimed. She reached for the silk scarf around her neck and undid it. Then she came over to sit next to him. “No peeking.”

He blinked, looking between her face and the purple scarf. Then he looked out the carriage door to his mother, Josie in Terrin’s arms, and the world outside. They looked to be in some kind of field, but he could make out nothing else. Whatever it was… he trusted them. He looked back at Yrene and sighed, turning his back to her.

“If you insist.” The scarf came over his eyes.

They guided him out of the carriage step by step. Yrene held his hand the entire time, telling him gently if there was a step or incline. All he could tell was that there was a light powdering of snow underfoot. It wasn’t a long walk, but he felt every second of it that he couldn’t see.

“Why the drama?” he asked.

“Almost there. You’ll see.”

“Are you leading me to a pit so you can shove me into it? Not a very romantic gift, I have to say.”

“Of course not. Josie would never forgive me.”

He chuckled and opened his mouth to reply, but then she stopped him. He heard her take a deep breath.

“We’re here. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

She loosened the scarf around his head and let it fall. Chaol blinked, not sure what he was looking at. Then he saw it — open space, over a huge frozen pond, with guardrails all around the perimeter…

He gasped. An ice rink. He drank in the sight, blinking in disbelief. A frozen pond for ice skating, out here, this early in the winter? Then he noticed a familiar figure leaning against the rails, waving a hand in greeting: Dorian.

With his ice magic, it would be frozen solid. Safe for skating.

He looked around at his family, patiently studying his reaction. Then his wife, who looked up at him with a strange mix of anticipation and vulnerability. As if she wasn’t quite sure if he approved.

Gods. The memories came flooding back to him. He’d told her one night, almost dismissively, about how he used to ice skate on the ponds around Anielle when he was a boy in the little free time he had. Sometimes with the village children, or with his mother, but most of the time by himself. An escape, of sorts.

And now Yrene, he presumed, had gone and put all this together — gotten his family and Dorian involved, gods, even the coachmen they hired…

All from a passing comment about his childhood in Anielle. She’d seen how much it really meant to him.

His eyes burned.

“Well?” she asked, with a shy smile. “What do you think?”

In that moment, Chaol did something he didn’t think was possible. He fell even more deeply in love with her.

“I…” He swallowed past the lump in his throat, and started again. “I’m speechless.”

“I know it was a while ago,” she said cautiously, taking a step towards him. “But I brought us all skates so we could learn together.”

He just looked at her. Skates. Of course, the mysterious cargo they had packed into the backs of the carriages.

“Yrene, you… did all this?”

She nodded, holding his gaze with that look of hope and expectation that made his heart ache.

“For me?”

“Yes, for you, birthday boy,” she said, swatting at his arm. “Do we like?”

He had no words. So he scooped her up and planted a kiss on her lips, chilled and soft and tasting faintly of the kahve she had this morning.

When he put her down, both their cheeks were flushed and he was vaguely aware of their audience. His breathing was shaky as he looked into her face. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. So full.

“I like very much,” he whispered, knowing the words did nothing to convey just how much he loved her, but hoping she saw it in his eyes.

In response she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him. He held her tightly, tears threatening to spill again.

“Come on, old man.” Dorian had walked over. “She doesn’t get all the credit.”

Chaol laughed and glanced around, fully aware of his family standing by him, patient as he ran through one emotion to the next.

“Thank you all. Gods, this is... “ He shook his head. “It’s like being a kid again.”

“We haven’t even gone on yet,” said his mother, eyes twinkling. “Let’s go, before the ice melts!”

So they all went down to the rink, where there were benches laid out along the perimeter to change shoes. Chaol studied the skates as they came out of boxes Yrene had carefully packed the night before. A pair for each of them, and though Josie couldn’t skate just yet, Chaol was excited to bring her out on the ice with him. As soon as he regained the feel of it.

If he could. It was, what, 12 years since he last skated? He wasn’t sure muscle memory lasted that long without practice.

Still, he helped Yrene lace up her skates as Ada helped Terrin. Dorian, meanwhile, was tearing it up on the ice, flying from one end to the other with surprising deftness and poise. The king caught him staring and flashed a grin. “Not all lessons as prince were useless, after all!”

Slowly they shuffled out to the ice. Ada, having skated most recently, went first, joining the king with a wave. Terrin, Yrene, and Chaol watched with open envy.

“You two go on ahead,” Terrin said, sitting back down. “I’ll watch with Josie first.” The baby chortled as her uncle settled her into the basket next to him.

With much hand-holding and leg-wobbling, Chaol helped Yrene onto the rink. It wasn’t any tougher than he imagined, trying to find his footing, so he took that as an encouraging sign. Eventually they ended up side by side, holding the outer rail, gazing out at Dorian and Ada, who skated circles around each other.

“How does it feel?” Yrene gestured to his skates, squinting against the sun.

“Like I could fall on my ass at any moment,” he replied. “This would be so much easier in the chair.”

She laughed. “Go on. Give it a try.”

So he pushed cautiously off the ice, keeping a hand on the outer rail. He went slowly, getting a feel for the rhythm of it. He wasn’t particularly skilled as a boy, but he knew enough to stay upright with minimal effort.

Soon he felt comfortable enough to pick up the pace, relaxing into the feel of the wind on his face, softly rippling the scarf around his neck. Crisp winter air filled his lungs, and he let his eyes fall shut momentarily. He pictured that pond in Anielle, on one of the handful of days he found it empty. The snow-covered White Fang Mountains as a backdrop. No sound but the scratch of his skates on the ice and the steady huff of his breath.

He opened his eyes. His mother and Dorian were cheering him on, and snow had begun to fall in tiny flecks. And as he finished the circuit around the rink, a strange feeling fell over him. This wasn’t like Anielle. It was beautiful.

He slowed to a stop in front of Yrene, unable to stop the triumphant smile spreading across his face. “Your turn!”

She clung to his arm. “I don’t understand how you balance on these things.”

“Try to widen your stance. And push away with your legs instead of stepping. There you go, that’s perfect.”

They spent careful minutes getting the hang of it. At some point, Dorian switched out with Terrin to watch Josie. Soon Yrene was skating without assistance, and it was Terrin’s turn to fumble about.

“Look! I’m doing it!” Yrene exclaimed. She held her arms out to balance as she glided, slow but steady. Chaol smiled, trying to freeze the moment in his mind: her rosy cheeks and radiant grin, golden brown eyes lighting up the same way they did every time she learned something new. Meanwhile, he tracked Terrin as he skated by the outer perimeter with his mother. Though he looked more harried than triumphant, there was a glimmer of joy on his brother’s face, devoid of his usual sarcasm—

“Oof!” Chaol found himself tumbling down to the ice, a body weighing him down. When he finally stopped slipping, he looked up into his wife’s face.

“Sorry.” Her breath misted up between them. “I haven’t figured out how to stop yet.”

“How is it you always seem to end up on top of me?” Despite the layers of outerwear between them, memories of their dreamlike romp that morning came back to him. He eyed her mouth — now so close to his — for emphasis.

Her face flushed further, but she bit her lip. “Maybe I like it on top.”

He pushed back a lock of hair from her face. “I can see that.”

“Hey!” The spell broke. It was Dorian. “Save it for the bedroom! We’re trying to skate here!”

They laughed, and Yrene helped her husband up.

Later, Josie took a turn around the rink on her father’s shoulders. She gave her little gleeful cackle whenever he swooped this way and that, imitating a bird — Uncle Dorian in crow form, he’d said. Dorian rolled his eyes but obliged, taking the bird’s form and flying alongside father and daughter.

Afterwards, they did end up having a picnic, under a giant oak tree in a nearby clearing, which Dorian magicked dry and insulated from the frigid air. The sun came out from behind the clouds, warming the thin layer of snow that had fallen on top of the green. The scene was so picturesque that Chaol wondered if this, too, was a dream. Again he got the strange feeling that he had to savor it.

In that moment, surrounded by family and instilled with peace, he decided he wouldn’t mind if the next five, ten, twenty birthdays were like this. Had he ever had a birthday like this? His last birthday, they had just won the war and been too exhausted to plan anything elaborate. Still, Yrene had managed to give him that amulet, which he had never taken off his wrist.

But this year, Josie had come into their lives, lighting up every room of the house and every corner of Chaol’s heart. It filled him with a strength he’d never known before, no matter how hard he’d trained. The strength to do his part in building a better world for her to live in, even when the odds seemed stacked against him.

When they rode the carriages back home, Josie sat in her father’s lap and looked out the window as her parents spoke to her about the landmarks they passed. Chaol used her little hands to point out the mountains and villages, and Yrene regaled them with stories of how she and other healers had gone on a field trip nearby to gather ingredients.

When they arrived home, Chaol found that another party was waiting for them in the backyard. Yrene, Ada, and Terrin had invited his closest friends from the palace and the city for drinks, games, and dinner. At the end of the night, Lord Enabi — Chaol’s closest ally on the King’s Council and fifteen years his senior — gave a lively and slightly inebriated toast to the Hand.

The king stood as the laughter died down.

“My turn,” said Dorian, a bit unsteady on his feet. He met his friend’s gaze. “Chaol Westfall. When I first made you Hand, you had no idea what you were getting into.” A few people chuckled. “Neither did I, to be completely honest. There was an impossible task ahead of us. But then, you did the impossible. Came back to our shores with an army from the south — and a wife.” He raised his glass to Yrene, who smiled and nodded. “And after fighting to win an unwinnable war, you set to work putting our country back together.”

He looked around at the other guests. “I’ve never known someone so determined. So loyal. Or stubborn. But I’m always glad to have that stubbornness by my side to help me cut through the political nonsense that plagues our office. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And nothing makes me happier than being a part of your incredible family. Thank you for your service, and your friendship.” He smiled. “Happy Birthday, brother.”

Chaol ducked his head as they cheered, warmed from the inside out. As he watched everyone drink to his health, again that feeling came over him. But this time, he realized what it was.

Happiness.

* * *

Later that night he curled up beside Yrene, stroking her hair. “How long have you had these little surprises up your sleeve?”

“Hmm. Ever since you told me you used to ice skate in Anielle.”

“That was like… two months ago!”

“Yes, well, there was a lot to do. And hard to keep you from finding out about it.”

He tried to remember if she’d let anything slip. “For someone who says otherwise, you’re a very good schemer.”

“Thank you.” Then she sat up, propping her chin on her hand to look at him. “Did you like it?”

As he gazed back at her, he asked himself for the hundredth time what he did to deserve her. Her eyes scanned his face, genuinely curious. As if she didn’t hold his entire heart in her hands.

“The blindfold was a bit much,” he teased. Then he laid a hand on her cheek. “I loved it. Thank you.” He leaned forward to kiss her, taking his time to show her how much he meant it.

Without breaking the kiss, he laid her back against the pillows, shifting so his body covered hers. He trailed kisses to her ear and murmured, “The blindfold does give me a few ideas, though.”

“Oh?” He heard her smile. “Like what?”

“I’d much rather show you.”

She laughed, but it turned to a moan when he nipped her collarbone. “Show me then, birthday boy,” she said huskily, a challenge in her voice.

That night, she left crescents in his back to match the ones she’d made in his shoulders that morning.


	6. Memorial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short story about Chaol visiting his men's graves that nobody asked for. slight to moderate angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in these crazy times, let this short and sweet chapter remind you to be kind to yourself, reader. x

Outside the palace grounds, the Royal Cemetery sprawled out almost to the edges of the forest. Not a soul wandered the field, except perhaps the ghosts of the fallen. The sun was just visible on the horizon, the sky still dark from the night.

That was how Chaol found their graves. He’d been thinking of them for the past few weeks, remembering that they’d given their lives for him almost a year ago to the day.

This day.

Autumn leaves crunched under his boots as he wove his way to the section of land where fallen officers of the Guard were buried, if they chose. Some didn’t get to choose. Some lost their lives long before they were ready to give them.

But that was life as a Guard. You never knew when it was going to be your time. It could be today, or it could be in twenty years. He halted before a group of six stones.

Brullo. Ress. Kasper. Jona. Mertaugh. Oren. The men who’d died in interrogation to protect their captain. Their resting place was a cluster near the giant willow tree.

He’d brought a small bouquet for each of them, so he carefully laid them before the stones and stepped back. The six white splotches stood out from the dead leaves caught in the grass, gleaming in the early morning light.

The day they’d been buried, there were so many others to dig graves for that the cemetery felt crowded. Busy. He didn’t really have a chance to spend time with them before rushing off to Antica and then the war… Then the excruciating rebuilding process. Gods, there was so much to do. Day after day there was a new crisis requiring his attention. Unrest in Rifthold. Famine in the south. Rebels nibbling at the borders. Tense foreign relations.

Dorian had paid reparations to all the families of the fallen whose bodies were defiled by the Valg or who fell victim to their influence — their torture and murder. That included these six men, whom Dorian himself had… Well, it still haunted him sometimes.

So Chaol supported him as best he could, though the loss of these particular men was still a wound in his own side. A reminder of why he does the work.

The sky above was starting to brighten. There was a nip in the air — no doubt summer was waning. He was never really one to talk at graves, preferring to say the words in his heart and know they were heard. But this time he felt he needed to say these words aloud.

“There’s so much I didn’t get to say the last time we saw each other. For all of you, it was in dark corners and dirty alleys, not at all fitting for such honorable men.” He paused, letting the memories come over him. Brullo’s slash of a smile as he faded into the shadows for the last time. The fleeting amusement on Ress’s face when Chaol parted ways with a dark joke. The scrape of Kasper’s callused hand as they clasped arms. Jona’s smile as Chaol took a swig from a flask of his illegal brandy — his muffled laugh when he’d coughed up the stuff. Mertaugh, man of few words, merely nodding as he received his orders and left to carry them out. Oren, a brilliant pickpocket, who slipped him a set of lockpicks the last time they met.

He watched as a flock of crows took flight into the forest. “If you were here today, I know you’d say it was your choice to do what you did. To give your life for me. For the soul of this country. But it must have been hard.” His eyes stung. “It must have been hard. I don’t know if I would have done the same.”

He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. For a moment, he let himself fall apart a little, doubting if he’d ever be as strong as the men before him. He thought of his daughter. His wife. His mother, his brother. His king. He’d die for them, yet… would he have died for his men?

He closed his eyes, trembling, overwhelmed by memories. Tried to get his breathing under control, but the air was going in and out of him too quickly. He looked up to the sky, trying to find the way forward again. Wind tossed his hair and the leaves scattered, as if trying to get away from him.

Then his gaze fell to the stones. Gray, uncracked. Solid. The image grounded him.  _ Be as stone. _ It was something his meditation instructor said to them — he and Dorian — on occasion. Sometimes it was necessary to flow like water or fly with the wind, but sometimes you had to plant yourself like a stone to prevent the world from intruding on your inner peace.

So he took a shaky breath and let it out. Another. And another. Until the crisp air was bracing, not suffocating.

The tears dried on his face. He looked at each headstone as he chose his next words.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.” It was all he could say.

But there was more he could do.

* * *

Only when Chaol found himself on the front steps of a nondescript address in Rifthold did he wonder if he was way in over his head. It was later in the day, after he went into the Guard’s record books and did some digging. His findings led him here, to the front door of Ress’s mother’s house.

Brullo was an only child, hadn’t married, and his parents were long gone. But Ress was young when he passed, and his family survived him, so Chaol decided to start there. He would pay his respects to the living as well as the dead.

Before he lost the courage, he knocked on the front door. The house was small but neat, sitting on a street bordering between the working and middle classes of the city. Quiet, not too much traffic, but he could see the cracks in the road where repairs were needed, holes deep enough that someone could twist an ankle if they stepped wrong. 

The door opened. Chaol looked into the eyes of a woman in her mid-forties, who regarded him warily. She wore simple work clothes and fixed a hand to her hip.

“Hello, are you Mrs. Purdew?”

“Who wants to know?” she said curtly.

“Chaol Westfall,” he replied. “I knew your son.”

At the mention of Ress, her face crumpled momentarily. She glanced away, trying to hide it. Chaol panicked, wondering again if this was a mistake, but then she looked back at him with a softer expression.

“Westfall.” Her eyes narrowed, seeming to see him for the first time. “Captain Westfall. He mentioned you.”

“Yes. I was his captain.”

A pause. Then she opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

The sitting room area was cramped but clean. Ress’s mother motioned for him to sit, and as he obeyed his gaze caught on the painting above the fireplace. It depicted a field not unlike the cemetery he visited that morning, with a willow tree off to the side and the tips of forest trees visible beyond. In the foreground was a single forget-me-not rising from a gentle slope, so small he almost missed it.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mrs. Purdew set down the tea tray.

“It is.”

“His sister made it.” She poured two cups, her movements steady. He accepted one and noted the gentle scent of jasmine that wafted from it. He sipped when she did.

“She’s an artist. Used to do commissions for rich folk. Merchants, mostly.”

“Used to?” he asked before considering. The record said she was alive, but that could have changed… 

“Work has been slow of late.”

He nodded, relieved. “Does she live here with you?”

“Yes. She’s out working.” She seemed about to say more but then thought better of it, sipping her tea instead.

“Mrs. Purdew.” He set down his cup. “I know how hard this day must be for you and your family. I came to offer my condolences. As his commanding officer, he was my responsibility.” He paused. “I should have come a long time ago. For that I apologize.”

Now came the difficult part. “I wanted to tell you, in person, that I was… part of the reason he died. To protect me. And to protect his country. He was brave, and I honor his memory.”

He watched with distant horror as tears slipped silently down the woman’s cheeks. She wiped them hastily, sniffing. He offered her his handkerchief, which she accepted with thanks, dabbing her face.

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “I didn’t mean to bring all this upon you with no notice—”

She shook her head. “Ress was my baby. My second-born. I know he was brave. I just miss him.” Her voice broke at the end.

“I do too,” he said softly. Together they sat in silence for long minutes, the only sound Mrs. Purdew’s sniffing and the gentle tick of the clock on the wall.

“Thank you,” she said finally. She flashed a smile — so like Ress’s that Chaol’s heart twisted. “He always took pride in the work. He was a protector. In his last few weeks, he — he spoke of you.”

He raised his brows.

“In his letters, the few he could get to us. Even though the king — the old king, I mean — was on a killing spree, he didn’t seem afraid. He was just doing what he believed was right. Serving his captain. His country. He told us not to worry.” Another tear. “He was doing what he was always meant to do.”

Ress… these words seemingly from beyond the grave. Chaol could only stare.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Ress’s mother patted his hand. “He wouldn’t want that.”

Staring at her hand, he tried to keep his own tears from falling. He didn’t know why he’d come. Not exactly. But this woman, the mother of the man who gave his life for him… she knew. 

Then the front door swung open and a young woman about Chaol’s age walked in. A bolt went through him when he saw her face — so like Ress’s they could have been twins. She halted when she saw him on the couch, and he stood.

“Raphia,” said her mother. “This is Captain Chaol Westfall. A… friend of Ress’s.”

She froze, looking at him. He saw a flicker of grief play across her face before she tamped down on it. Much like her mother had.

“I came to offer my condolences, Miss Purdew,” he explained when she didn’t speak.

“Mrs. Greene,” she corrected finally. “I’m — I was — married.”

She took a seat next to her mother, across from him. He discovered that her husband, too, perished as a result of the Valg — not from murder but infestation. He wondered with dread if Mr. Greene was one of the men he’d slain, thinking — at the time — that it was the only way to free the human soul inside.

“I’m sorry,” Chaol said quietly, explaining what he suspected. But then Raphia shook her head.

“He was long gone,” she said calmly. “If you or one of your men did… it would have been a mercy.” 

“Later that summer, we… discovered a way to heal them. Bring them back, by burning out the Valg.”

Mother and daughter exchanged looks. “Heal them?” asked Raphia.

He nodded. “They were like parasites. Sometimes their human hosts would be too far gone to save, but those who were newly infected had the best chance of survival afterward.”

Again they exchanged glances, no doubt wondering what would have happened if a healer were able to get to Mr. Greene in time. Chaol didn’t miss the glance Raphia shot to the painting above the mantel.

“Thank the gods for healers,” Mrs. Purdew murmured. “Is it true what they say? They’re building a learning center for healers in the city?”

Chaol smiled. “As we speak.”

He told them everything he knew of the new Tower of Dawn — when it was expected to complete construction, when enrollment would begin. He even let slip that his wife was at the helm of it all. In the end, the conversation veered back to the reason they were all gathered there.

“You received his personal effects? And the reparations?” They nodded to both.

“And… was there anything else you needed? Anything I could do to help?”

Right as the words left his mouth, he felt foolish. What could he do? He couldn’t bring Ress back. Their family would have a Ress-shaped hole in it for the rest of their lives.

But Mrs. Purdew seemed to understand. “We appreciate the gesture, Captain Westfall. Please just keep us in your thoughts, from time to time.”

“Yes,” Raphia continued. “Thank you for visiting.”

He blinked. An introduction to connections in the city or at the palace — for Mrs. Greene’s business perhaps — he would have expected. But this?

Mrs. Purdew smiled knowingly. “You don’t owe us anything, captain.” Her daughter nodded.

For a moment he just sat there, trying to process the implications of her words. Up in the palace, he had grown used to people wanting his ear or his counsel, pretending not to be currying favor with the Hand to the King. It had been a while since someone had just wanted to be friends.

Finally he said, “Still, if anything comes up, you can write to me at the palace. I’ll make sure any messages from your family are expedited to my desk. And it isn’t ‘captain’ anymore,” he added. “Just Chaol is fine.”

* * *

The sun was low over the horizon by the time Chaol made it back to the palace. A few rays peeked over the top of the building where his office was located, and all was quiet except for the trees rustling in the wind. He walked slowly, trying to savor the last few days of the summer. Where had it gone? He was so busy he didn’t notice the weather getting hotter, then gradually cooling down. Months flew by as he tried to make every day as Hand count. If his afternoon trip taught him anything, it was that people were still hurting, in more ways than he could imagine. He couldn’t help fast enough.

As he crossed the courtyard below his office, still mulling over his visit to the city, he was surprised to see his wife sitting there, only a few feet away.

“Hi,” she said.

“What are you doing here?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I thought you had meetings.”

“I did. I cancelled the later ones, though.”

“Why?” The wood bench creaked as he sat next to her.

She tilted her head, studying him. “I know what today means to you,” she said softly.

Right. He’d told her before, but this morning he’d gotten up early and headed straight to the cemetery.

He looked away. “I wanted an early start.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “Where did you go just now?”

“To the city. The family of one of the men lives there.”

“How did it go?”

He thought of Mrs. Purdew’s warm, callused hand as it patted his. Her daughter’s strength in the face of so much adversity. The painting on the wall. The warm cup of jasmine tea.

“All right,” he said finally. “Better than all right, actually.”

He told her of their conversation: how he’d gone there thinking he needed to do one thing, but found something else entirely in that small house full of love. It calmed him. He hadn’t realized the darkness had crept back until he took a second to breathe.

When he finished, Yrene reached up to stroke his cheek, her eyes tender. “You’ve been working so hard. Remember to be kind to yourself.”

Ress’s face flashed in his mind. He gave his life so Adarlan could have the future Chaol was building. He had to make sure it counted.

Yrene searched his eyes with her own, drawing him closer. “Promise me.”

He sighed. “I promise.”

She gave him a small smile. “Come here.” And she embraced him. His arms came around her lightly, then squeezed tighter as she settled against his chest. Her warmth was grounding, too, as those tombstones had been.

He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent of shea butter and home. For the second time that day, he took a moment just to breathe. Refocus. So he could go back to work with renewed purpose.

The next day, pavers arrived outside the Purdews’ home, filling the cracks in the street.


End file.
